Page 108 of The Last Kiss

“I’ve never lied.”

“You never told me you had a wife. I specifically asked if you had a girlfriend. What? Did I not use the right label so then you didn’t have to tell the truth? I’ve been here under the same roof as her for days now.”

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just the more time that passed, the harder it became.” Catching my hand, he reels me back in. “I love you, Julianna. I’ve never felt anything close to the way I feel about you. I told you, you’re magic in my life.”

“Married, Henri?” The fight starts to seep out of me, that numb exhaustion rushing back in making my limbs heavy, legs hard to move. A pain stabs in my chest, an ache that makes me rub my left ribs. “Living with her all this time that I’ve been falling in love with you.” I can’t breathe. There’s a sob that wants to let go, but it’s vacuumed in my chest like a hard lump of coal.

“Julia, you are everything to me. You make me want to fight this situation I’m in.”

“But you haven’t. Your maman thinks you’re getting back together, doesn’t she? That’s why she treated me so dismissively. She thinks I’m a fling.”

It all makes sense now. That flick of dismissive fingers, her open hostility even on our first meeting… her real daughter-in-law of choice was already sat at the goddam family table.

It’s too much.

I pull away.

“I’m going home.”

Absently I rub at my arm. It’s heavy, odd, weighed down so I’m uneven.

“Julia, ma petite, you said you wanted to stay. We can fix this.”

“No, Henri. It’s too late for me to fix anything. I should never have come. Should have stayed with Liv which was always our plan.” I march back for his room; pretty sure his mother is leaning out of a window somewhere in her castle punching the air with glee at my sudden end. Right, I can book a taxi to the airport. I can be home by the time Paige is out of pre-school.

I want to run, but know I can’t, so I power march for the bedroom. I’m at the door when I stop.

“Julianna!”

His face flickers, mouth opening, but the heaviness in my arm explodes into fire. My chest contracts, but not the way I’ve got used to. No, this is an elephant reverse parking onto my heart.

“My tablets,” I hiss, bending, holding my arm. It’s so sudden, so quick, I almost laugh in surprise.

“What bloody tablets?”

“In. My.”

Nothing else comes out. The burn from my arm spreads like a fire through an old, gutted tenement block. It burns everything in its wake, extinguishing my breath. I can’t stand under the force of it.

The last thing I see is Henri reaching forward to catch me, his face a mask of shock, as my heart explodes in my chest.

Finally, I reach my end.

Dr Francis lied. It’s the last thought I have. This hasn’t been twelve months at all. Nowhere even close. What a lying bastard.

28

Different shades of white

Death is such a funny thing. From the moment you are born you are conditioned to never think about it. Loved ones go, grandparents, family, and we know to wear black and sit on a pew, shed tears that don’t help, tears that feel helpless in the great scheme of life. What do tears achieve?

It is salt water I’m first aware of.

One droplet. Two. Three. Splashing on my hand like rain in a puddle.

Death is such a funny thing. Tears feel real even when the end has been reached.

“Jules?”